


The Ashwinder Collection

by MizzAdamz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Dancing, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Implied Consent, Originally posted on Ashwinder, PWP, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Student Hermione Granger, Written Pre-Half Blood Prince, any sexual congress happens when Hermione is an adult, everyone is happy and a willing participant, fictlets, just its been a rough day y'know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28253580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizzAdamz/pseuds/MizzAdamz
Summary: A collection of one shots written in 2004 and hosted on Ashwinder.The original stories are still there, I have just edited them slightly to fix a few grammatical and stylistic issues.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons Discord Members





	1. Velvet Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the very wonderful SeverusSnep to bring me into the new decade.
> 
> Original Note:
> 
> Hermione needs an outlet away from her studies. First Person POV *Completed*

I can’t write music, I have tried and tried, I can almost see the music but I can’t hear it. I am tone deaf. It is a sad twist of fate that as much as I love music, I cannot create it.

I can dance though, oh how I can dance.

When music fills my mind, I can abandon all the self-confidence issues I have ever had and give in. I move with grace; I move with abandon, and I make people see the music as I do.

Or so I have been told.

The one who told me this was honest in his statement. He always is honest, almost to the point of being brutal, but this time he was gentle in his honesty. He spoke as if he couldn’t trust himself to speak honestly.

“Miss Granger, you dance well.” He stood away from me as I caught my breath. I had exhausted myself dancing for hours then.

“Thank you,” I blushed as I tried to regain my breath. I had tried to lose myself in the music, hoping that the motions would take me away.

Dancing was always my last resort, when books failed, when logic was too cold, I turned to music and dance. It was my release. When I danced, I wasn’t the bookworm or know it all. I wasn’t the girl you came to for help with your History of Magic essay. I wasn’t the bushy-haired girl in the corner scribbling notes unnoticed. I was motion, and I was something beautiful.

I hadn’t needed to dance often since I had come to Hogwarts; being here I finally knew what I had been missing in my formative years. I had needed magic; so now I wanted to learn it all, but my daily life had become too much recently, and I needed that release.

They were so happy, so lost in their games and jokes. The girl with the funny hair was outside it all, and no one had noticed. My friends each had new relationships and were caught up in the romance. Love is something that should be treasured, so for a while I was happy for them.

Harry had missed out on so much I didn’t dare begrudge him his romance. Ron was so goofy trying to impress his girl. He once asked me to help him write a love poem for her.

But now they were too involved, and they left me in the lurch and alone; I was a fifth wheel. 

So I came here, to the room of requirement.

It had everything I needed, a flat parquet floor, music that seemed to come out of nowhere, and a table with a pitcher of water and two glasses. 

I dropped my books, took off my outer robes and danced, I didn’t even close the door behind me.

I didn’t know the music; I didn’t care, I just danced. I gave into the music and let everything leave me.

Hours later I came out of the music to take a drink of water and he was there, watching me. 

I don’t know why I didn’t feel ashamed that he was here watching me being so expressive and vulnerable. Maybe I had left my shame in a bass note somewhere. I didn’t even question his presence, I had hidden my curiosity in an older melody. I just finished my water and returned to the floor.

“Do you dance, Professor?” I asked, moving my hips to the continuous music.

“I don’t think that would be —” he looked away from me. I could swear I saw him blushing behind his curtain of inky black hair. I said nothing, I just turned my back to him and moved. I gave into the music, music that had changed tempo and tone. 

The music was deeper now, and slower. Bass notes rose from my toes and into my calves.

I forgot he was there, and I again submitted myself to the movement as the music guided me to. I moved my upper body in the opposite direction to my waist. 

I kept my feet in one spot while rolling my hips. As I grew confident in my movements, I took a step forward, thrusting my pelvis out before undulating it back, keeping my weight on my toes to allow freedom of movement. Then repeating the movement with my other foot.

My shoulders and upper torso were in a constant contrast with my hips and waist, making my body flow elegantly and seductively. I was sinuous with my movements in a way that only comes with a comfortable awareness of your body and muscle warmth after long exercise. The music had already absorbed my self consciousness.

Then I had to change my movements, not because the music changed, but the surrounding space had. A hand grasped my hip, a warm body hovered just behind me. The air between us filled with music and our combined action altered smoothly. We didn’t need to think or correct ourselves as we danced, we both saw the music and kept it between us.

I kept my back to him, and when I moved, he responded. Slowly, sensuously, our bodies moved as one on the floor of the room of needing. There were no more words spoken between my potions teacher and myself. 

His hand was on my waist or hip or belly, at some points mine was on his arm or shoulder or his waist. We moved back and forth, around and over the floor; the music filling the air and taking everything from us both. We surrendered to it all.

We just danced until dawn, when we nodded to each other and then made our silent ways to our respective rooms.

To this day, I don’t know why he was there, why he needed to escape or why he joined me. But I know that he can dance with me like no other man I have met. A velvet seduction embodied by sound.


	2. Of Light and Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Velvet Seduction told from Snape's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the excellent SeverusSnep

For years I have lived a double life, cold and withdrawn, silent and scathing.

It started in my youth, just after I left school. I chose a path I quickly became not pleased with, and became one with evil.

Then a man who knew me when I was a tormented and lonely child saved me. 

When he took me in and gave me a new life, I realised that I wanted to help others where I had been failed. I wanted to stop people from going down that dark path that I had once followed.

I looked to my mentor’s life for guidance and became a teacher like him. But I couldn’t be exactly like him, he was jolly and bright and I had lived in shadows for so long that the light hurt my eyes.

I retreated into the darkness and contented myself by helping however I could, using my ties to the sinister world to help my mentor and our fight.

Oh, I still taught, but I never inspired the trust he did; and it ate at me that he shone so brightly while I merely skulked.

Then the bright boy arrived, the one who would save us all. The golden boy who had survived was a living miracle. I knew he was. It awed me that such a taint could touch an infant and the child could remain innocent and fresh. 

He was everything I wanted to be and more, because he had survived and gleamed. He had his mother’s eyes, beautiful and beguiling.

He grew up hating me, and I was jealous of him. 

He carefully combined his mother and father into his personality, but also uniquely was himself. 

His friends were just as bright and innocent, and though the surrounding air grew darker by fate, I worked hard to keep them in the light. Fate, though, makes us all puppets and despite my efforts, they suffered. Maybe because of my efforts they didn’t fade though. It was some comfort to me, that I may have helped them stay bright.

Nights have always been long for me, so I wander the halls. I was doing just that when I saw the doorway.

A doorway to a room that only appears where there is a great need for it, it needs a desire so strong that it calls a special place into being. I knew the space well; I had spent most of my school days hiding in it, trying to find some normalcy.

Since the Ministry’s recent meddling in the school’s affairs, I knew that a few students had used the room to form a class to teach themselves Defence Against the Dark Arts. 

It had been a fine success as well, but as far as I knew, those informal classes had ended in the previous year, so who could need the room now?

I entered the room, intent on finding out who needed the solace, I hoped to pass the name on to my mentor. He could deal with the youth in question and guide them in the right way. 

As I walked through the partially opened door, I heard music loud enough to hide my entrance; I had planned on only looking in to see who had hidden themselves away and then leave, but then I saw her.

Hermione Granger was moving in time to the music. Totally absorbed in her dance and the rapture on her face was evident.

With her eyes closed and her cheeks flushed, she tossed her body about the wooden floor in lovely abandonment, as if she was peeling off layers of troubles and worry with her movements.

I stepped fully into the room, captivated, shutting the door quietly behind me. Here was one of the bright ones alone, lost in a world of music and movement. 

What could have caused her to run to the confines of this enchanted space? What worries was she trying to shed in her frenzied movements? Where were her companions? Why had they left her to cope on her own?

I watched this puzzle unravel and twist itself on the dance floor in front of me for what must have been two hours when she stopped and made her way to the table directly before me to drink some water.

There was no way she hadn’t noticed me, so what could I say to explain myself? Eventually, I just choked out the words closest to my lips. 

“Miss Granger, you dance well.”

“Thank you.” She lowered her eyes, slightly ashamed I think. She might have blushed, but I couldn’t tell as her face was so flushed from her exertions. She finished the water and moved back to the dance floor.

She was going to dance again! Knowing full well that I was watching! I felt a powerful compulsion to join her, to help her ease her burden in the dance. Soothe her the way she preferred, something even Dumbledore couldn’t do. I could do this for her. Her friends weren’t here, who else was there?

She moved her hips coquettishly and turned to look at me in the eye over her shoulder, “Do you dance, Professor?” 

Her face was wanton and smouldering. I suddenly didn’t care about helping her ease her burdens in dance, I wanted to push them out of her mind in an altogether different and wholly inappropriate way.

“I don’t think that would be — ” I trailed off and ducked my head to hide my burning face. The cheek of the girl and my desires were appalling. She was a child!

She didn’t say a word then, she just continued her dance. This time she was more deliberate and selective in her movements. It drew my eyes to her slender hips and tiny waist as she rolled them expertly in time to the beat. Her body spoke volumes about her and betrayed my ideals about her innocence.

Her dance was ageless and primal. Every adult understood the subtle nuances in it. Even if I had been absent from its charms for a long time, I knew what this was. It was a call to the baser self to let go and release.

Her dance had changed from an explosion of sorrows to a seduction of life, and like a butterfly in a chrysalis, I couldn’t resist the light in it anymore. 

What she had done in her dance was what I had been trying to do my entire life. I had to dance with her, if only to feel the joy and accomplishments with her as I could never experience them on my own.

I covered the distance to the dance floor in three long steps and put my hand on her hip, using it to guide my movements. I followed her lead, using her spirit and body to guide.

The dance and music soon took over, and I was just moving, my hand on her hip or stomach, hers on my waist or shoulder. I was just moving; I didn’t need to think. The light didn’t hurt my eyes, and the beat took place in my soul. I didn’t need to feel or judge. I just danced.

She guided me out of the shadows that night. She taught me, her teacher, how to abandon the old ways and regrow a new life.

She took me into the light, and I shone.

We just danced until dawn, when we nodded to each other and then made our silent ways to our respective rooms.

I would be lying if I said that I didn’t dream of her afterward. She guided me to the light as a guardian angel would guide a lost pilgrim.


	3. Rough Day at the Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night air was warm and humid, as was typical of a late spring day in Scotland. 
> 
> Hermione had spent the evening in the bath reading her newest book, and she was now out of the tub. She was about to light a fire to dry her hair and settle in for the evening. There was something quite soothing about drying her hair by the fire. So with her towel slipping a little as she bent down, she put her lit match to the tinder sitting ready in the hearth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the excellent SeverusSnep

The night air was warm and humid, as was typical of a late spring day in Scotland. 

Hermione had spent the evening in the bath reading her newest book, and she was now out of the tub. She was about to light a fire to dry her hair and settle in for the evening. There was something quite soothing about drying her hair by the fire. So with her towel slipping a little as she bent down, she put her lit match to the tinder sitting ready in the hearth.

It would have been much easier to use her wand to light the fire, but Hermione didn’t enjoy using her magic for casual things. Growing up muggle had given her an appreciation for accomplishing manual tasks the way her parents would have. The tiny spark jumped from the match and grew to encompass the tinder and loose papers hidden in amongst the logs.

As the little fire grew and took its place in the grate, Hermione straightened and clutched her towel to herself, tightening its wrap around her still slightly damp skin. Her bare feet made little noise on the tiled floor as she shifted around, looking for her sturdy hairbrush. If she didn’t brush out her hair now, it would be a mass of tangles come the morning. 

She remembered leaving her hairbrush on the dressing table in the bedroom, so she left the fire growing in the hearth and walked in the dark room where her brush was. As she walked through the door, she saw the light from the fire behind her bouncing off the mirror onto the silver back of her hairbrush.

“There you are!” she exclaimed and grabbed it. She then brushed out her hair as she walked and hummed a little to herself as she did so. She made her way in the dark back towards the flickering light of the now steady fire.

Though, when she walked from the darkness into the fire lit room, a dark shape pushed her to the wall. Rough hands gripped her wrists painfully and lifted them above her head. They squeezed her until she dropped the hairbrush in her hand.

The unyielding figure kissed her neck and lips cruelly and pressed its body close to her. Even through the heavy wool robes, she knew that this was a man pinning her to the wall. Her towel fell open and exposed her freshly bathed skin to the intruder, whose clothes rubbed over her sensitised body.

Hermione tried to speak when the intruder’s mouth crashed into hers again and one of his hands left her wrists to smooth over her naked flesh.

Harsh fingers squeezed at her breasts, one after the other, while his mouth plundered hers.

She tried to break the kiss, but the pressure from his lips and jaw kept her pinned to the wall, unable to pull away. His hand rolled one of her nipples around, pinching and tugging at it, arousing her with his fierce actions.

She tried to arch into his touch while gasping into his kiss, and that is when he pulled away from her mouth to allow her to breathe.

His one hand kept both of her wrists above her head and his other moved down her body.

Hermione’s now neglected nipples cried out at the loss of his hand, but he quickly replaced his cruel fingers with his mouth. His teeth nipped at her and his tongue tasted her skin as his fingers moved down over her belly to her core.

The sensations of his hands and mouth fixed Hermione’s attentions. The pressure on her wrists held against the wall, the sting and soothing suction at her breasts and the painful anticipation as rough fingers moved around her clitoris barely making contact. 

She didn’t have the strength to fight him, his attentions were too intoxicating, and she just wanted him to keep going.

Hermione voiced her desire for him to touch her when his hand worked into her and explored her depths with a sure and persistent pressure. He pressed up against the spot inside her that made her toes curl and his thumb rubbed circles around her swollen nub. 

The combination of pressure and strokes started a deep fire inside of her belly, his lips and teeth adding fuel to the fire, and soon her gasps and pleas became throaty moans. 

Then the sensation of his mouth on her breasts vanished, her nipples stood out proudly, the moisture on them making her feel cold. His hand disappeared from inside her as well.

Hermione opened her eyes and whimpered in need when his mouth crushed against hers again. As his tongue forced its way into her willing mouth, his cock slipped inside of her as well.

Hermione groaned at the dual invasion, trying to roll her hips to allow better access, and his throaty growl and a hand at the base of her throat stopped her movements.

His tongue mimicked his cock as both of them slipped in and out of her body with ease. His robes were harsh and abrasive against her skin. His warm hand moved onto her breasts again, pulling and pinching, kneading and squeezing them.

The fire in her belly spread and soon it was all Hermione could think about. 

The pressure of his open zip on her clit, his hands on her breasts, the unyielding stone wall behind her and the thrusting of both his cock and tongue soon sent her over the edge of control.

Without thinking, her hips again moved towards him to drive him deeper. She turned her head to make his kiss more natural and intimate. She opened herself to him in her wanton desire for release. This time the intruder allowed her movements and adapted to give her greater pleasure.

Her release came quickly after, and the fire enveloped her completely and filled the room with a blinding light as she shrieked into his mouth. 

The intruder broke the kiss and thrust into her with a ferocity that hurt her body. Hermione lifted one leg to wrap around his waist to bring him closer. Her naked leg rested on the curve of his waist, the wool of the fabric scratching at the soft skin of her freshly shaved legs.

He came quickly after that and leaned against her for a time. Then he stepped back, releasing Hermione, who fell to the floor exhausted and spent.

She looked up through her now tangled hair and smiled. “Rough day at the office then Severus?”

The Deputy Headmaster at Hogwarts sighed, zipped up his fly and said, “I need to get back to that detention.”

She loved it when he came to her to release his frustrations from a bad day.

“Don’t be too long, love.” She called out as he left their rooms to make another student scrub bedpans.


End file.
